Communication is Key
by babycakes14
Summary: Sirius breaks out of Azkaban to save Harry and prove his innocence, but he finds that forgiveness may be harder to come by than he originally thought. Sequel to A Failure to Communicate.
1. Chapter 1

1.

Daytime.

Gray ceiling. Gray walls. Grey sky outside, over a steely gray ocean.

Black shadows outside his door.

And he thinks: _I'm innocent._

Nighttime.

Black ceiling. Black walls. A roiling black ocean under a black sky pierced with stars. He used to be a star. He was named after one; he used to shine like one too.

But the black shadows are still outside his door.

So he thinks: _I'm innocent._

Daytime again.

Gray ceiling. Gray walls. Grey sky outside, over a steely gray ocean.

The black shadows are still outside his door.

_I'm innocent, _he thinks. _Innocent and bored._

That was the worst, he thought. Yes, sometimes the cold was unbearable, the dementors were ever present and creepy, the monotony was frustrating, and the screaming and crying at night was frankly unhinging, but the boredom was the worst. It gave him nothing to do but think, and after twelve years in the same gray room with the same gray walls and ceiling and tiny, barred window, he'd more than exhausted all possible topics for thought.

James and Lily were dead, and it was his fault. He was innocent, but it was his fault. It had taken him a few of months to get his mind around that particular paradox, but he'd managed it. Harry was an orphan and it was his fault. No matter how often he thought about that, he still nearly cried every time. Peter was dead too, but that was his own damn fault. Sirius loved it. It was a joke. A great big cosmic joke that no one but he got. And Remus...

He tried not to think about Remus.

Sirius lay on his back on his dirty little cot, under his dirty gray blanket, his arms folded up under his head. He was watching his ceiling darken as the sun went down. The gray always slid down into black in the same way. Everything was monochrome: just a different shade of gray.

"- Black, isn't it?" a nervous voice said from the hallway. "How's he been doing?"

The answer to the man's question wasn't audible, and there was only one set of footsteps on the stone floor, but the drop in temperature meant he wasn't alone; more dementors were coming.

Still, it was a break in the monotony.

Sirius stood, ignoring the crusty, grimy sweep of his hair and went to his door to peer between the bars just in time to make the Minister of Magic jump back in fright. Cornelius Fudge stood a good ways away from Sirius' door between two dementors, nervously wringing a copy of the _Daily Prophet _between his pudgy hands. His face was incredibly pale beneath his lime green bowler hat. Sirius stared at the hat for a moment; it was a marvelous break in the monochromatic scheme of Azkaban.

Once he managed to tear his eyes away from the color, Sirius looked Fudge in the eye and, in a gravelly voice that he barely recognized as his own, said, "Hello, Minister."

Fudge squeaked and Sirius found a perverse pleasure in frightening him. "Black," Fudge said. "Er... Hello."

"Are you finished with your paper?" Sirius asked evenly.

"Er..."

"It gets rather boring in here," Sirius explained. "And I miss the crossword."

"Oh, well... Yes, I- I suppose it would," Fudge said breathlessly. "Get boring, I mean. Here you are-" He took a half step forward and slid the crumpled and twisted paper in between the bars.

Sirius reached out slowly and took it. "Thank you," he said, and went back to sit on his cot, ignoring Fudge's worried whispering at the Dementors outside his cell. He started reading right where Fudge had left off- some inane article about a pygmy-puff infestation of some level of the Ministry. Then on to an article about the newest broom model: the _Firebolt, _that made him ache just to have enough room to stretch out completely when he laid down, let alone room to fly a broom. He kept reading hungrily, (he hadn't read in so long that he was surprised he remembered how) soaking up the information, the news. This paper was wonderful; a glimpse into the world he'd been cut out of. When he reached the crossword he took the page and folded it carefully, setting it on the cot beside him. After that he had to stand and go to the window for light to read by. The moon was full and he remembered all the times he and James and Peter had all gone out running with Moony, thought about what Remus was doing right now, alone, and he felt as if someone had grabbed his heart and twisted.

So he focused on the _Prophet_ and continued reading. Slowly, he made his way through the pages and articles. When he reached the end he flipped it over so he could read the first half as well. He smiled faintly at the picture of the big, happy family and was about to read the caption and accompanying article when he froze.

For a moment it seemed like everything stopped, then he sucked in a lungful of air and brought the picture closer to his face, tilting it to catch more light. As he stared at the rat on the young boy's shoulder his heart was beating wildly, and a black surge of anger was rising in him.

_ Peter!_

How had that filthy little rat-

The answer hit him like a lightning bolt. The sewer. He must have transformed and escaped into the sewer. Sirius looked closer, but couldn't see if the rat had all his toes, but he knew he didn't. Peter must have cut it off himself. That took guts, more guts than Sirius would have thought Peter Pettigrew had...

He looked at the caption, then, wondering who this family was with a murderer in their midst- The _Weasleys_. Some of the children were going to Hogwarts. Sirius was amazed Dumbledore hadn't recognized Peter for what he truly was. True, Dumbledore didn't know he was an animagus and Peter Pettigrew was probably the last person Dumbledore would expect to see, but Dumbledore was supposed to be _clever-_

A different thought occurred to him, and he did some math in his head. Harry was twelve, almost thirteen. Harry would be at Hogwarts.

With Peter.

Sirius threw the paper down and screamed in fury. A shadow crossed in front of his door as a dementor looked in on him, but he didn't care. He paced as far as he could in his tiny cell, his mind racing. He was at Hogwarts. _Peter _was at Hogwarts, and he was the only one who knew it. As soon as Voldemort came back- and Sirius was sure he eventually would- Peter would be right there, perfectly positioned. He had to do something... but what? He wanted to break out, and for more reasons than to kill Peter, but he knew better than to think he could pull that off. He also wanted to tell Remus. He wanted to show Remus that Peter was alive, that he hadn't killed all those people, he hadn't betrayed James and Lily... but how would he do that? Write him a letter?

_ Dear Remus, I know that last time I saw you I beat you bloody and raped you, but I want you to know that I'm really not that bad of a guy. I even have a picture of a rat to prove it... _

Yes, that sounded lovely.

He had to do something. The urgency of that thought was like a fire in his veins. He _had_ to do something. But first he needed to think, and to think he needed to calm down, so he closed his eyes and concentrated. After a moment of dizziness and slight itching, he opened his eyes as a dog. Things were easier to process this way. Simpler.

So he started to pace, and he started to think, and that fire kept burning.

-

-

A/N:

hello, everyone!! So, this is the sequel to A Failure to Communicate. (Fun fact, as of today, {12/14/09} AFtC is a year old! I feel so proud, like my baby's all grown up, or something. lol) and... yeah. Is anyone excited? I am. What do you think so far? Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

2.

Remus drug his feet as he made his way home. He was tired. Tired of working the graveyard shift at that muggle store, tired of _working_ at that muggle store, tired of listening to radio and hearing bands he'd never heard of, tired of hearing Muggles complain about problems that only Muggles had. But he really didn't have a choice. He hadn't been able to find a job in the wizarding world for almost a year now, and the Muggles didn't believe in werewolves. Most people took in his thin, tired, sickly looks and called him a "junkie", whatever that was.

He missed the wizarding world. It wasn't that he didn't do magic anymore, because he did. He just couldn't do it in front of the Muggles. He was always too tired to go to anywhere like the Leaky Caldron or the Three Broomsticks, where he would at least be surrounded by witches and wizards, even if he would never interact with them.

He led a very boring, very solitary, very miserable life. He thought it suited him. He, himself, was boring, solitary, and miserable. Sometimes he got home after work and tried to think back over the last few hours, but he couldn't. It was like he was sleepwalking, and he only woke up every once in a while when the loneliness grew into a sharp pain in his stomach.

It was around four in the morning, and the sky was still dark. There was a breeze that made trash roll by, and there was a coolness to it that made him wonder if it was going to rain soon. He reached his apartment building and walked wearily up the steps, pulling his keys out of his pockets. As he looked down and inserted the key into the lock, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He rubbed them uncomfortably and, feeling that he was being watched, turned around. Something darted into the alley and out of sight. Curious and slightly apprehensive, Remus went to look.

For a moment, he didn't see anything but garbage and shadows, but then there was a rustle and a whine and a stray dog peeked at him from around a trash can. Remus relaxed and gave the dog a little smile. The dog's ears picked up and it came out from behind the trash can, looking hopeful. The smile disappeared from Remus' face. He felt as if he'd just been slapped. It was a large, black dog, sick looking and impossibly thin, but its resemblance to Padfoot was uncanny. For one wild moment, Remus thought it actually was Padfoot, but then he remembered that Sirius was in Azkaban.

Still...

The dog seemed to have picked up on his sudden change of mood. It whimpered and lowered its belly to the ground, looking up at him pitifully. Sirius had always done exactly that when Remus got angry or frustrated with him for changing.

"Get of out here!" Remus yelled, suddenly furious. What the hell did this stupid dog think it was doing, dragging up memories of Sirius? "Go on. Leave!"

The dog just stayed where it was and whimpered again.

"Go!" Remus yelled and stooped to pick up a bottle laying on the ground. "Get out of here, you stupid mutt!" He threw the bottle and the dog yelped as it hit it. It turned and ran down the alley. Remus who watched it go, spitefully triumphant. He then turned and went into his building. As he climbed the stairs his limbs shook slightly with exhaustion and anger. He unlocked his door and slammed it behind him. He absolutely refused to think about Sirius. He couldn't do it without feeling heartbroken and he was just too tired to deal with that right now.

So the threw his jacket onto a chair, kicked off his shoes, and climbed into bed without bothering to take off the rest of his clothes.

* * *

Remus woke a few hours later to an incredibly annoying and persistent knocking on his door. He was so tired that he was sorely tempted to ignore it and go back to sleep, but it had been a very long time since he'd had a visitor, and his curiosity got the better of him. He rolled out of bed and stumbled to the door, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. He opened the door and rubbed his eyes again, more vigorously this time, because he really hadn't been expecting _this_.

"Hello, Remus," Albus Dumbledore said, looking tired and worn but smiling slightly. "May I come in?"

"Um..." Remus said, and rubbed his face in an effort to wake himself up. "Yes, of course." He stepped back and held the door open, never happier that he was a tidy person by nature. A messy apartment would have been incredibly embarrassing right then. His apartment was just like everything else he owned; shabby and old, but clean. Remus himself was not clean or tidy as he usually was, and if the twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes was anything he found that rather amusing. Remus' clothes were rumpled from sleeping in them, his light brown hair was sticking up in some places and squashed against his head in others.

"I'm sorry if I woke you," Dumbledore said, his eyes still twinkling a bit, "but we have several very important matters to discuss." The twinkle dimmed a bit as he said that, and Remus frowned in confusion.

"It's fine," Remus said, gesturing to a chair. They sat and he asked, "What do we need to talk about?"

Dumbledore regarded him closely for a moment before asking, "Have you read todays _Daily Prophet_?"

"No," Remus said. "I don't have it delivered. Why?"

Dumbledore sighed and said, "Because night before last, Sirius Black broke out of Azkaban. They couldn't get the story to the _Prophet_ in time to make yesterday's edition, but today I suspect it will be front page news."

"He broke out of _Azkaban_?" Remus spluttered. "But how? That's supposed to be impossible. How could he have...?"

"I don't know," Dumbledore said. "But he did it. He's completely disappeared. We don't know where he is or what he's doing, which is why I thought to come to you." At Remus' baffled look he added, "You know Sirius better than anyone alive, Remus-"

"I don't," Remus snapped. "I don't know him at all. If I did I would have known that he was..."

"You still know him better than anyone at the Ministry," Dumbledore said calmly. "You two were very close at one point in time. He might try to contact you-"

"What?" Remus exclaimed. "Why would he try to contact _me_?"

"Either to ask for help, or to harm you. I do not know. Honestly, I haven't the faintest idea how that man's mind works, but it is a possibility, and a very likely one at that. I don't have to worry about you helping him, should he come knocking, do I?"

"No fucking way," Remus growled.

Dumbledore have him a small, sad smile and said, "I didn't think so. Some people in Fudge's administration disagree..." He trailed off and let that unpleasant thought sit for a moment. Aiding a fugitive was enough to land Remus a cell in Azkaban. Not for the first time was Remus glad Dumbledore trusted him. "Have you seen anything odd in the past couple days?" Dumbledore asked.

"No," Remus sighed. Then he remembered the dog he'd seen last night, of its uncanny resemblance to Padfoot... but that was impossible. Azkaban was miles and miles away. Sirius wouldn't have had time to reach him in two days, would he? The dog had run away when Remus yelled at it. Telling Dumbledore about it would admit to betraying his trust all those years ago and send the ministry on a wild goose chase. "No," he repeated.

"Can you think of anywhere he might hide? Some sentimental place he might not be able to stay away from?"

"The only place Sirius ever thought of as 'special' was Hogwarts," Remus shrugged. "But going there would be suicidal-" He stopped talking at the look on Dumbledore's face. "What?"

"Hogwarts is most likely part of his plan," Dumbledore said. "He's after Harry Potter."

That was like a slap in the face. Remus didn't need to wonder why Sirius would want to find Harry, but it was still hard to believe. Sirius had loved that little boy.

Remus shook his head. Sirius had _pretended_ to love that little boy.

"Which brings us neatly to the other thing I wished to speak to you about," Dumbledore said. "I would like to offer you a job."

"A job?" Remus parroted incredulously, sure he must have heard wrong.

"Yes," Dumbledore said, smiling a little. "Hogwarts once again finds itself without a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."

Remus gaped at him. "You want me to come teach at Hogwarts?"

"Yes."

"I..." He didn't know what to say. He really wanted that job, he needed that job, and Dumbledore's trust in him now meant everything, but... "I can't. What if- I could hurt someone-"

"Severus will be more than up to the task of brewing the Wolfsbane potion," Dumbledore said.

"Severus Snape?"

"Yes," Dumbledore said lightly, obviously choosing to ignore the horrified look on Remus' face.

Remus stood and began pacing nervously, thinking. "Is this job offer an excuse to keep me safe, or to keep an eye on me?"

Dumbledore paused for a moment, apparently deliberating how much he should tell him. "A bit of both, I suppose," he said honestly.

"You think I'd help-"

"No, Remus, I do not," Dumbledore said earnestly. "I have several reasons for offering you this job. You were very close to Sirius for a very long time. He meant a great deal to you, and I would more than understand if you were confused or conflicted. At Hogwarts I do not believe you would become so. If you worked at Hogwarts under my supervision, no one would be able to accuse you of helping him. At Hogwarts you could help me look after Harry. He's a wonderful boy, but when it comes to creating and walking into trouble he is exactly like his father was, and until Black is caught, walking into trouble could get him killed." He paused for a moment, to let Remus contemplate that possibility, then continued. "Also, I believe that you would be an excellent teacher. You certainly have experience. And I mean no offense, but I can tell that you've been having trouble finding work lately."

Remus shrugged and nodded because it was certainly true. It was not something he could hide, either, so he tried to not let it bother him. Remus sat back down and ran his hands through his hair, inadvertently making it stand up even more. "You're sure?"

"Absolutely positive," Dumbledore said, and he sounded like he meant it.

Remus gnawed on his lip for a moment. He couldn't think of any other reason not to, and he _really_ wanted that job. "All right."

"Excellent," Dumbledore said happily and stood. "I have places I need to be. I will see you on September first at Hogwarts. Please be careful until then, and if you see anything... unusual, please inform me."

"I will," Remus nodded and smiled back at him. "Thank you." He hadn't smiled in a very long time, and it felt strange. Good, but strange.

Dumbledore nodded and let himself out. Remus watched him go, but as soon as the old wizard's footsteps faded, so did that little flair of happiness that had sprung up with his visit. He walked over to his bed and lie down again, hugging a pillow to him.

Sirius was free. Would he try to contact Remus? He didn't know for sure, but the thought the answer was, probably not. He didn't think he meant enough to Sirius, either in a good or bad way, for him to bother. All in all, that was probably a good thing, even if it did hurt a bit.

It was stupid to be hurt by the thought that Sirius might not care about him, especially twelve years after the night Sirius proved it to him on no uncertain terms. But well... it did hurt. Maybe that was why he lived like a sleepwalker. If you're half asleep all the time, emotions can't worm their way into your heart.

He liked the sound of that. In fact he liked it so much that he rolled over and pulled the blankest up over himself. Soon he'd be at Hogwarts and he'd be too busy to worry about stuff like this. He'd be surrounded by the hustle and bustle of teachers and ghosts and hundreds of students, and it'd be impossible to feel lonely then.

-

-

A/N:

So... not very good or exciting or angsty or anything yet, but everything's all set up! What do you think? Thanks for reading! You're all amazing. Happy Holidays!


	3. Chapter 3

3.

Remus hadn't looked good. He'd looked tired and sick and broken. Over twelve years later, and he was still broken.

He hadn't meant for Remus to see him. He'd just wanted a glimpse of him, just wanted to see that he was all right and, if he wasn't, to at least see that he still alive. After twelve years in Azkaban, even after all the things he'd done, Sirius thought he deserved a glimpse. But when Remus had seen him crouching behind that trashcan he'd smiled. It had been a tiny, tired smile, but a smile nonetheless. And for an instant, a flare of hope had risen in him. It had seemed as though Remus had recognized him and, despite everything, was happy to see him.

But Remus hadn't been happy to see him, if his throbbing ribs were anything to go by. Had he recognized him? Maybe. Probably. It didn't matter. Odds were, that would be the last time they'd ever see each other, and if the anger and hate he'd seen in Remus' eyes had hurt, well... he deserved it.

Harry, on the other hand, had looked wonderful. He was small and skinny like James had been, but Sirius still couldn't repress the thought that he'd gotten so _big._

He felt sappy and sentimental for thinking it, but the last time he's seen Harry, he'd been barely a year old. Sirius had wondered what he was doing, lugging his trunk down the street in the middle of the night, but the Knight Bus had shown up and he'd had to leave before anyone else saw him.

Now he was headed north to Hogwarts, posing as a lovable stray and begging for food along the way. He'd reach Hogwarts soon. Soon, Peter would be finished.

* * *

Remus stepped into the Great Hall and felt a little warmth flow through him. He'd forgotten what it was like to be here, surrounded by talking and laughter and people.

He remembered the first time he'd seen this room. He remembered being small, alone, and terrified that someone would see him for what he was. He remembered being sorted, remembered sitting down next to a boy with dark, messy hair and an ornery smile. He remembered eating here, countless times, with his friends. And he remembered being happy.

Things hadn't changed very much since then. Dumbledore's beard was a little longer, McGonagall's hair had a little more grey in it, and there was a new potions master, but really he was in nearly the same situation now as he had been over twenty years ago. He was still alone, still terrified, and there was still a little boy with dark, messy hair sitting at the Gryffindor table, although it was Harry, not James. And as Remus sat down at the staff table, he realized that "little" really wasn't the best word to describe Harry Potter, not anymore.

It had been a thrill, seeing Harry on the train, a wild blast from the past that had simultaneously brought to mind the memory of one of his best friends, and the memory of an infant with a shock of black hair. That thrill had quickly turned to horror when he saw the dementor at the door to their compartment and the effect the monster was having on Harry. Remus had quickly realized that there had been truth in Dumbledore's statement. He'd told Remus that one reason he wanted Remus at Hogwarts that year was to keep an eye on Harry. Now Remus knew that Harry needed as many eyes on him as possible. He didn't know Harry very well yet, but if he was anything like his parents he was brave and clever and therefore did not need to be coddled. But he was still just a boy, and there was a monster on his heels, a monster who hadn't hesitated to sell the boy and his parents to Voldemort, and who wouldn't hesitate to kill him now.

Remus told himself that he wouldn't mind running into Sirius. After all pain and humiliation and horror he'd endured at the hands of Death Eaters, he was itching to return the favor.

Speaking of Death Eaters… As he made his way to the staff table he looked towards the Slytherin House table, and it only took him a moment to spot the blonde head of a boy who had to be Lucius Malfoy's son. Again, he didn't know the boy yet and therefore would try not to judge, but if he was anything like his father…

He swallowed hard, took a deep breath. Instead of letting dark memories claw their way up from where he'd buried them, he focused on taking his seat at the staff table, on soaking up the light and the warmth and the company. He was slightly dismayed when he accidentally made eye contact with Severus Snape. His feelings for the man were difficult to understand. He'd saved his life several times. He'd seen Remus at his absolute lowest. Remus couldn't decide which emotion was stronger; gratitude, or humiliation.

Severus was experiences no such confliction, if his expression of absolute loathing was anything to go by.

Remus ignored it and managed to have a good time at the feast. Professor Flitwick always had been a lively conversation partner. Remus even laughed once or twice.

By the end of the feast, he was so full and content that he had almost completely forgotten about Severus. He was fully intent on making his way to his quarters and having a nice, full night's sleep, but as he exited the Great Hall, he found Snape waiting for him.

They made eye contact and again, all Snape did was glare, so Remus took it upon himself to initiate the conversation they both knew was coming. "Do you have something you would like to say to me, Severus?" Remus asked politely.

"You shouldn't be here Lupin, and you know it," Snape spat.

"Are you saying you're not up to brewing the Wolfsbane potion for me?" It was a mild, calm insult but it hit Snape hard, if the way his face turned red was anything to go by.

"Why didn't Black kill you?" Snape sneered. He stepped closer, so that their faces were inches apart. Snape was taller than Remus was, and he was trying to intimidate him. It wasn't really working. "He killed the Potters. He killed Pettigrew. He even killed eleven Muggles, but not you. Why? Did he not care enough to bother? Or did he care too much?"

Remus didn't know. He'd thought for a long time that it was the former; that Sirius hadn't thought he was worth the time it would take to kill him. That last night, it certainly would have been easy enough for him to do so when Remus had been lying on the bed, semi-conscious and broken...

"Black is out there somewhere," Snape continued. "And if he ever gets in here, into Hogwarts, I'll know exactly who helped him." Remus blinked. "I don't know how that little, half-breed mind of yours works, but I promise you, I'll be watching. And when I find evidence that you've been helping Black, I'll have the dementors in here so fast you won't even have time to think, let alone tell Dumbledore any clever lies to save your skin."

Anger sparked in him. Snape had seen firsthand what Sirius had done to him, how he'd betrayed him. How the hell could he think- _Calm, _Remus told himself. _Stay calm. Lock the wolf away, down deep, and stay calm. _"Dumbledore trusts me," he said. "That's not good enough for you?"

"Dumbledore trusted Black, too, once upon a time. So no. It's not." And with that, Snape spun on is heel and stormed off, his robes billowing out around him, making him look even more like an overgrown bat.

* * *

It was almost two months later when Snape got to live up to his promise. They were wonderful months defined by the realization that not only did Remus enjoy teaching, but he was good at it as well. He felt an amazing sense of accomplishment at the end of each day and pride for the students who mastered their lessons, like Hermione Granger, a friend of Harry's who was so clever Remus had a bad feeling she would discover his secret soon. Every night his mind was full with thoughts of how to adjust his lessons for those who struggled, like Neville Longbottom. He had his mother's kind, round face, but not a hint of her self-confidence.

He left his office to take a trip down to the kitchens. He had skipped the Halloween feast. It hadn't seemed right, feasting today, when exactly twelve years ago so many things had gone so wrong. But he decided he should eat something, and as he had just finished the goblet of Wolfsbane potion Snape had brought him, he was in need of something sweet to get the taste out of his mouth.

He turned the corner and saw the painting of fruit with the magic pear, but stopped suddenly. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, his ears picked up—vestiges of his wolf that was so close to the surface this time of month. There were soft, nearly inaudible footsteps behind him. He whirled around in time to see a shadow slink off down a corridor. He hurried over and peaked around the corner, his hand lingering on his wand, but he stopped himself. There was no one there now. It was probably a student wanting to sneak into the kitchens themselves.

Remus shrugged off the uneasy feeling and started for the kitchens again, but less than two seconds later there were more footsteps behind him. These were fast and loud, the heavy knocking of boots on the stone floor. He looked around the corner again, but an instant later, he had been slammed against the wall, a pair of cold, hard hands at his throat.

"Where is he, Lupin?"

Panic welled up inside him and he opened his eyes expecting to see Sirius… but it was Snape.

"What?" he asked, baffled. He managed to pry Snape's hands from around his neck and shove him away.

Snape stumbled back and pulled out his wand. "Black. I know he's here in the castle. _Where is he?"_

"He's here?" Remus pulled out his wand as well, but rather than pointing it at Snape, he held it at his side, at the ready. "What happened? How do you know?"

Snape jabbed his wand into Remus' chest and said, "He tried to break into Gryffindor Tower. Why weren't you at the feast, Lupin?"

And then Remus understood. "You think I let him in? You think I'm helping him?"

"How else could he have gotten in?" Snape said.

"I don't know—"

"You're going to have to come up with a better lie than that, Lupin."

"It's not a lie!" Remus snarled. He swatted Snape's wand away and shoved him hard enough to send him stumbling backwards. "If you think that after everything—" Without giving him a chance to regain his balance, Remus shoved him again and this time his head snapped back and hit the wall. "Everything he did to my friends, to me, that I would still be willing to…" He grabbed the collar of Snape's robes and shook him. "You of all people should know how I feel about Sirius Black."

But Snape didn't seem to be interested in what Remus was saying. He smiled cruelly and said, "_There's_ the wolf. You can't keep it locked down forever."

"What are you doing?" came a shrill voice from behind him.

Remus let go of Snape immediately and whirled around to see Professor McGonagall hurrying towards them, her face livid. For an instant, Remus was a student again, getting in trouble for fighting with Severus like he and his friends had so many times when they were younger.

"This is no time to revisit a boyhood grudge! Sirius Black is loose in the castle!" she barked. "Now I expect you two to put aside your differences and help us track him down. Wanting to put Black behind bars is something you have in common, I expect."

Remus and Snape glanced at each other. Remus expected to see a bit of acknowledgement in Snape's eyes, but all he saw was anger.

"Move!" McGonagall barked, and they both jumped to follow orders.

* * *

Sirius slipped across the dark grounds silently and unseen. He was almost to the Whomping Willow when his cat companion met up with him. He acknowledged the cat's presence, but then largely ignored him the rest of the way to the Shrieking Shack.

Once safely inside he transformed back into himself and, ignoring the cat's disgruntled meow, sat on the edge of the old bed to brood. He regretted attacking the Fat Lady. He hadn't meant to lose his temper like that, but he'd been _so close_ to finally getting his hands on that little rat, and the students weren't going to be at the Halloween feast forever—

The cat jumped onto his lap and started kneading his legs, purring. Sirius scratched him between the ears absentmindedly. He'd just have to come up with another plan, that's all. He'd have to get into the tower another way…

Remus had been in the castle. Sirius had seen him. Or, he'd seen his back, but Sirius would recognize that man anywhere. What if… what if he explained everything to Remus? What if he told him about Peter? Would Remus help him, if he knew the truth? If they didn't have the past that they did, Sirius thought maybe, but after…

Anyway, how would he explain everything? By owl post? Sneak into his bedroom in the middle of the night and force him to listen?

No. No, there was no going back to the way things had been. There was no possibility of redemption for him, but there was a possibility of revenge. He'd find Peter, he'd kill him, and then Harry would be safe. Sirius could disappear.

* * *

A/N:

So I just recently went back and read the prequel to this fic, A Failure to Communicate. It's been so long that it was almost like reading something that was written by someone else. I read all the responses and reviews too, and it got me wanting to continue the sequel that I had abandoned. I'm going to try really really hard to finish it this time, I promise! I don't know if any of the old readers are still interested, but hopefully there are a few people (old and new) who will want to read it.

Anyway, thanks for reading! I hope you've enjoyed it so far


	4. Chapter 4

4.

"Well, I think I'll be heading back to the school now," Minerva said. She stood and donned her cloak, wrapping a red and gold Gryffindor scarf around her neck.

"I'll walk with you," Flitwick squeaked as he hopped off his chair. "Are you coming, Remus?" He was so tiny, he was barely able to see over the table.

"No, I think I'll stay for a while," Remus said. He still had half a mug of butter beer left and he liked the warm, crowded atmosphere of the Three Broomsticks. Staying certainly looked like a better option than trudging back up to the school through a blizzard.

"Then have another on me," Minerva said, setting a few knuts down on the table. "And have a good night."

"Thank you," Remus said with a small smile. "You have a good night as well."

They left Remus to his thoughts and his drink and headed off into the late spring snowstorm that had caught everyone by surprise. He sat for a long time. The thoughts that were racing through his mind were barely half-formed and he couldn't remember most of them. In the past twelve years, he'd gotten used to this state, this stupor. Not thinking was often much easier than the alternative.

Off to his left the door to the pub opened, letting in a gust of frigid, snow strewn air. It wasn't the cold that brought Remus out of his reverie, but the smell. He knew it, the scent of hair oil and sharp metal. He knew it more intimately than he cared to admit. Instantly his heart rate picked up and he felt panic start to rise in his chest, but he pushed that down and slowly turned his head to face the man who had entered.

It was Lucius Malfoy.

They made eye contact for a moment, Lucius' hard, cold eyes staring him down and sizing him up. Then without the slightest bit of acknowledgement, Lucius walked right past him, and took a seat at the bar. Another man followed him, and Remus dimly recognized him as McNair.

Every instinct he had was telling him to run, that they were Death Eaters, that they'd hurt him before and horribly, but a small, stupid voice in the back of his head said no. No, they couldn't hurt him, not now when they no longer had the threat of Voldemort behind them.

Lucius had stripped him of his pride once, but Remus had earned some of it back and he was determined to not let Lucius chase him out of there. He sat and calmly as he could he finished his mug of butter beer. Every muscle in his body tensed and was poised to run, but Lucius and McNair seemed completely uninterested in him. Finally, he drained the last few drops out of his mug. He stood, waved goodbye to Madam Rosmerta, pulled his cloak around him and left.

He hurried out into the snow and pulled his scarf tighter around his neck. The wind was downright nasty. After he'd gone about twenty feet he took a quick look over his shoulder. He couldn't help it. He didn't see Lucius emerging from the Three Broomsticks to follow him, but he did see a large, black dog sitting on its haunches and staring at him through the snow.

He felt as though an icy hand had grabbed hold of his guts and squeezed. It was hard to tell because of the snow, but was it… could it be…?

Forgetting all about Lucius and his fear, Remus sprinted through the snow back the way he came to get a closer look at that dog. But the dog had other plans. It turned and ran as well. It was too fast and Remus kept slipping in the snow, but he kept up with it for a few blocks before it finally disappeared into the falling snow and darkness. Remus skidded to a stop and stared after it for a moment. No, he thought, breathing heavily, that hadn't been Padfoot. It was just a stray. He hadn't even gotten a very good look at it, because of the snow. He was paranoid, that was all, just because he'd seen Lucius—

A hand grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and dragged him back, down a small side street and slammed him against a wall. It took Remus' breath away and it took him a moment to get his eyes to focus.

The man holding him was McNair, and behind him, appearing to be coolly disinterested, was Lucius Malfoy. Panic rose in his again and this time Remus couldn't control it.

"What do you want?" Remus asked, hating how weak his breathless voice sounded.

Lucius stepped closer and jabbed his wand under Remus's chin. "I've been receiving letters from my son, Draco. He's been telling me all about his new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, how he gets ill and misses class, how he walks around in the shabbiest robes imaginable, how he's a sorry excuse for a wizard. Imagine my surprise when in his last letter, he finally wrote down this professor's name." He pressed harder with his wand, forcing Remus's head back. "So tell me, Lupin, what gives you the right to be near my son?"

It wasn't a question that Lucius wanted him to answer. After all these years, Remus still remembered how to read Lucius, how to tell when he wanted Remus to speak and when he was only speaking to hear the sound of his own voice. Panic was still fluttering in him like a caged bird, and Remus struggled some more, but McNair simply tightened his hold. He was stronger than Remus. He'd always been stronger than Remus.

"You might have it in your sick little mind that revenge is something you want," Lucius seethed. "But I promise you, Lupin, if you touch my son—"

"Abusing those weaker than oneself is a special kind of evil," Remus said, surprised at both the words, and the calm, even tone of his own voice. "And that kind of evil is reserved for the likes of you. I have no plans to hurt young Mister Malfoy." The thought had never even occurred to him. Although, Remus thought, it should have occurred to him that Lucius thought he would.

Lucius sneered, but there was a strange look in his eyes. It was a bit like doubt but tinged with… relief? It hit Remus then that Lucius Malfoy truly loved his son. It was a disturbing thought, simply because it was difficult for Remus to reconcile the cruel, evilly inventive man who had tortured him to near insanity with the concerned father standing in front of him.

After regarding Remus for a moment longer, Lucius stepped in closer and said softly, his stinking breath on Remus's face, "Maybe you won't, but a little threat never hurt. How about a reminder, Lupin? A reminder of what I would do to you if you harmed him." His hand fisted in Remus's hair and he jerked his head back to an uncomfortable angle. "We've been here before, haven't we? I should make you get on you knees—"

Remus twisted, wrenching himself from Lucius's grasp and reaching for his wand. He pulled it out, but McNair, who had been silent until then, shouted "Expelliarmus!" and his wand flew from his hand to land in the snow on the other side of the alley. McNair flicked his wand and before Remus would do anything, thin ropes wound themselves around his wrists, tying them together behind his back. Lucius kicked his legs out from under him and Remus fell, landing hard in the cold, wet snow. After regarding him coolly for a moment Lucius kicked him twice, the hard blows landing on his ribs, and then grabbed Remus's hair again, pulling him to his knees. Lucius's hand that didn't have hold of Remus's hair was fumbling with the front of Lucius's robes.

"You can't," Remus gasped. "You can't get away with it, not like last time."

"I think I can," Lucius said. "Because you won't tell anyone, will you? If you do, I'll just have to have a chat with the school board and let them know Dumbledore hired a flea-bitten, half-breed monster. You'll be fired on the spot, of course, possibly even arrested for endangering children, but what about Dumbledore? Getting him fired is a poor way to repay his kindness, don't you think?"

Remus took a deep, shaking breath trying to gain control over his fear. Unbidden, his mind returned to one of the first times Lucius had forced him to do this. _"Good boy," Lucius had said before running a hand through Remus' hair. "Now. You know this trick. I bet you've done it hundreds of times for Sirius."_ He could do this, Remus told himself. To keep his job and to keep Dumbledore, the man to whom he owed everything, out of trouble, he could certainly so this. It wasn't like it hadn't happened before. He'd survived it then, he could survive it now.

Lucius finally managed to pull his cock from the confines of his clothing and Remus squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't have to look. Lucius pressed his leaking tip to Remus's lips, and Remus hadn't quite worked up the nerve to open his mouth when McNair said sharply, "Lucius."

Remus felt Lucius move away from him, releasing the grip he'd had on his hair. Surprised, Remus opened his eyes to see both men looking warily down the alley. Following their gaze, Remus saw the reason for their sudden vigilance. A man was standing in the alley watching them, just far enough away that only his silhouette was discernable through the darkness and the snow.

All three of them remained frozen for a moment, waiting for this stranger to do something, but he remained motionless, watching them.

After a moment Lucius huffed and stuffed himself back into his pants. "Come, McNair," he said. "Until next time, Lupin," he added, giving Remus a wink that made his skin crawl. Then he turned and walked back to the main road towards the Three Broomsticks. After regarding him for a moment, McNair flicked his wand again and the ropes binding Remus disappeared. He turned and followed Lucius without a word.

Remus pitched forward and caught himself, his hands plunging into the snow. He remained crouched like that for a moment. He was shaking too violently to stand, and not only from the cold. He should have felt relieved that Lucius had left without taking what he'd wanted, and grateful to the man who had made him leave, but he didn't. Instead, Remus felt something akin to… self-loathing?

_It wasn't like it hadn't happened before. He'd survived it then, he could survive it now._

He'd thought that. Those words had actually crossed his mind and he'd almost let Lucius hurt him without even putting up a real fight. Was he really that broken? Was he really that pathetic?

Thinking he might be sick, Remus forced himself to his feet. He was stiff and sore from the cold and from the manhandling he'd received. He forced himself to think about something else. He looked down the alley to where the man had been standing. It was empty now. No one was there. Should he try to follow him, to thank him? No, Remus decided. He didn't want to risk running into Malfoy again tonight. He stumbled across the alley to where he had seen his wand land and dug through the snow for a moment before he found it.

Sliding his wand back into his pocket, he began to make his way back to the castle. He was cold, stiff and aching, but he'd fared far worse after encounters with Lucius Malfoy in the past. As he trudged his way back up the hill, Remus's thoughts turned back to the random man who had been watching them in the alley. Had he known what he was seeing? Or had he thought he'd merely stumbled across some men who'd wanted a quickie in the alley?

Remus wasn't sure, but either way he'd been lucky. If Remus hadn't known better, he'd have guessed he had a guardian angel looking out for him.

* * *

A/N:

I'm back again! I know I've said this before but I'm going to try really really hard to get back into the habit of updating regularly, I promise! Anyway, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Can I have a review, pretty please? :)


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: This chapter's been a long time coming, I know. I swear I haven't forgotten it. It's mostly because I kept trying to make it into more than what it is, which is basically a transition chapter made up of several different small-ish moments that I feel are important but in no way deserve their own chapter. So they're all jumbled together here. It'll get super angsty and good next chapter, I promise!_

5.

Sirius was on the floor, out of breath, bleeding, and wondering how the hell he'd gotten himself into this situation. There was a boy on the bed with a broken leg, clutching that rat bastard Peter Pettigrew, and a girl with bushy hair, her trembling hand training a wand on him. Harry was standing over him, also out of breath; with a look of such hatred on his face Sirius was having trouble believing he was James' son. To make the situation even more absurd, his cat companion had leapt onto his chest in what Sirius assumed was a touching but misguided attempt to protect him.

Sirius and Harry stared at each other for a long moment, and the resounding silence wasn't broken until the sounds of someone moving around downstairs reached their ears.

"WE'RE UP HERE!" the girl screamed suddenly. "WE'RE UP HERE—SIRIUS BLACK—QUICK!"

Sirius jumped, making Crookshanks dig his claws into his chest. He quickly debated whether or not he should make a run for it, but the sound of footsteps hurrying up the stairs and the way Harry gripped his wand tighter stopped him.

The door burst open; a shower of red sparks raining down. Harry whirled around and Sirius's heart leapt into his throat as Remus ran into the room. He quickly took in the situation and then, in a move that baffled all of them, shouted, "Expelliarmus!" He caught all three of the children's wands and then stepped closer to Sirius, keeping his wand trained on him and staring at him very hard.

Sirius was reminded of the last time he and Remus had been face to face, and if the angry, broken look in Remus' eyes were anything to go by Remus was remembering it as well. But Remus pushed that down, like Sirius had seen him push so many other emotions down in the past, and finally he asked, his voice shaking, "Where is he, Sirius?"

Sirius had imagined this reunion for so long and in so many different ways. Most of the scenarios consisted of Remus yelling at him, hitting him, maybe even hurting him like he'd hurt Remus that night, and God, he'd deserve that and more. But every once in a while he allowed himself to hope—sometimes he imagined Remus being angry at first, but then, thinking that they'd both already suffered enough, breaking down and embracing him… But those daydreams had never lasted long. The Dementors had sucked those away, leaving him with nothing but the memory of Remus beneath him, face down on the bed and struggling weakly as Sirius made the greatest mistake of his miserable life.

He'd imagined this hundreds of times. Of all the things Sirius had expected Remus to say to him… _"You betrayed me, you son of a bitch" … "How could you have done that to James?" … "I never want to see you again" … "The Dementors are coming"…_ He hadn't thought Peter would have a damn thing to do with it. But that was undoubtedly who Remus was talking about. Very slowly, he raised his hand and pointed at Peter, who was still squeaking and struggling to escape the grasp of Harry's redheaded friend.

Remus scowled with recognition when he saw Peter. He looked back at Sirius and muttered, "But then... Why hasn't he shown himself before now? Unless"—Remus' eyes suddenly widened, and Sirius knew he'd put it together. He'd remembered the fight they'd had that night.

"…_you thought I was a Death Eater."_

"_I don't think, Lupin, I know,"_

"—Unless he was the one... Unless you switched... Without telling me?"

Sirius nodded.

"Professor, " Harry interrupted loudly, "what's going on -?"

But the question died in the boy's throat and Sirius' heart skipped a beat as Remus lowered his wand. Remus then walked to Sirius' side, seized his hand, pulled him to his feet so that Crookshanks fell to the floor, and pulled him into a tight hug. Sirius was so surprised that he didn't even have time to hug him back before the girl started shouting again.

"I DON'T BELIEVE IT!" she screamed.

Remus let go of him immediately and Sirius wanted nothing more than to pull him back again, but he had absolutely no right to do that. Remus had his hands full trying to calm the kids down, and Sirius turned his attention back to Peter once again.

He didn't know if he could fix things with Remus or not, but it could wait. Peter, on the other hand, deserved to die. And Sirius was going to make sure it happened.

Hours later, after he and Remus had convinced the children of his innocence, after he had watched as every bone in Remus's body shattered and reformed during the transformation, while he was being surrounded by Dementors intent on sucking out his soul, Sirius realized that he probably deserved it.

Dementors didn't seem to affect him as much as they did other wizards in Azkaban—mainly because he had the thought that he was innocent to keep him going—but they still made him feel as though he was drowning in frigid water. They still made him weak and shaky, they still made the dread and horror and hopelessness of Azkaban well up inside him in an almost unbearable wave. And, if there were enough of them, they still made him relive some of the worst moments of his life.

In Azkaban, these moments had often been varied. The day he'd run away from home, the night Lucius Malfoy and Snape had found him and Remus in their apartment, and the night Lily and James died had always been popular. Tonight for some reason, perhaps because he had seen him, spoken to him for the first time in years, everything was about Remus.

_Dumbledore is sitting in front of him, is fingers steepled under his chin, wearing the world-weary expression of a man who is used to giving bad news. He says softly, "I received a message late last night- or early this morning, whichever way you wish to think about it. To my surprise it was from Voldemort himself. The message stated that he had captured Remus, but had no intention of killing him."_

"_But... why?" Sirius stutters. He is so consumed with panic and guilt and fear that the words barely make it out. "Why would Voldemort want him alive?"_

"_The message stated, and I quote, 'For entertainment purposes.'"_

Then it changes to:

_Remus is standing in front of him and asks, in the most pathetic, miserable voice Sirius has ever heard, "Why?"_

"_Why?" Sirius repeats. Distantly, he's shocked to hear the anger and hate in his voice. "Because when I started going out with you it was under the impression that werewolves were good fucks. Now I can't even get that. If you won't put out, what use are you?"_

_Sirius can practically hear Remus's heart breaking, and his heart breaks too. "Sirius, if... if you want we can. I... I mean... I'll try, I just... I'm-"_

"_Scared? I don't want to hear it, Remus. You've been nothing but scared for months now. Why don't you show some goddamn backbone?"_

"_Sirius, please-"_

"_It's too late, Remus. Don't beg. It just makes you look even more pathetic."_

And then:

_Lucius Malfoy is staring down at him, an altogether terrifying glint in his eyes, rubbing his thumb over Sirius's lips. "Black looks feisty," he says. "Maybe I should wait to do him until we get home. But don't worry. I won't leave you out." He runs a hand through Sirius's hair. "You can watch while Severus and I fuck your boyfriend here."_

And finally:

"_Sirius, wait-" Remus says, desperately trying to pull his arm out of Sirius' grip. Sirius hits him again Sirius's fist connects with Remus's jaw and his legs gave out._

"_What?" Sirius asks, dragging him up off the floor. "What's wrong? You put out for Lucius, for Fenrir, for every other fucking Death Eater. You're they're whore, aren't you? That's what Lucius said. So why won't you put out for me?"_

The realization occurred that he deserved this. Everyone he had betrayed everyone he had ever cared about, sometimes knowingly, sometimes not. That was just what he did, he supposed. He let down the people he cared about and he had done it so thoroughly that he'd be lucky to receive the Kiss. It would save him from trying to fix things…

And suddenly he was inside. The edges of his body were cold. He couldn't feel his fingers or toes, and when he tried to wiggle them to try and get the feeling back he found he was incredibly weak. It was a moment before he remembered that he was lucky to be feeling anything. He was lucky to still have his soul.

Somewhere a door creaked open and Sirius sat up quickly, the motion hindered not only by his weakness, but by the heavy manacles on his wrists, securing him to the floor. He looked up in time to see Dumbledore close the door behind him.

"Hello, Sirius."

"Dumbledore, where… where am I?"

"In Professor Flitwick's office," Dumbledore said, taking a seat on a creaky old desk chair. "We are awaiting the arrival of the Minister, and of the Dementors, so that the Kiss may be performed."

Sirius swallowed nervously, wondering if it was worth the effort to try and convince Dumbledore of his innocence. Before he could find the words, Dumbledore continued.

"However, I am curious about a great many things, Sirius," he said. "You have not been acting like an innocent man, but it appears that you have had ample opportunity to kill Harry Potter in recent months. The boy is still alive, so you're either incapable or unwilling. Which is it?"

"Unwilling," Sirius finally croaked out.

"Why?" Dumbledore asked sharply.

So Sirius told him the story, the same story Remus had told Harry and his friends an hour or so before. When he was done speaking, Dumbledore continued to stare at him, seemingly unimpressed. Sirius swallowed nervously, his mouth suddenly dry. If Dumbledore didn't believe him, it wouldn't be long before…

"You have to believe me, sir. James was my best friend, practically my brother. I wouldn't have ever knowingly betrayed him. And Remus… you know what they did to him. I would die before I let anyone hurt him like that."

"I seem to recall that you did 'hurt him like that'," Dumbledore said lightly. "The night the Potters were murdered, as a matter of fact."

Sirius gaped for a moment, absurdly angry that Remus had shared that information. But then he remembered that he had no right to be angry when it came to Remus and focused instead on Dumbledore. Whatever he said, it had to be the truth. Dumbledore would see straight through anything else. "I've made mistakes," Sirius finally managed to say. "Becoming a Death Eater wasn't one of them."

"If I were to ask Lupin about the story you've just told me, what do you think he would say?" Dumbledore asked.

Sirius thought that was not only an odd question, but also a useless one. What was the point in asking Sirius what he thought Remus's opinion was? If he didn't believe him, if he truly wanted to ask Remus what his version of events was to verify what Sirius had said, nothing Sirius could say now could have any effect.

But, because it was Dumbledore and because Sirius knew the answer, he said, "He'd say I was awful. He'd say that I hurt him and betrayed him and all sorts of other horrible things, I imagine, and I'd deserve it." He paused and glanced at Dumbledore's face. It was blank, unreadable. "But he'd also say that I'm not a Death Eater, that I didn't betray my best friend and his family, and that I've never killed anyone, let alone thirteen people with a single curse."

With a slow, contemplative nod, Dumbledore rose and went to the door.

"Wait, do you believe me?" Sirius asked, hating the desperate tone of his voice. "Where are you going?"

"I am going to clean up this mess the best I can, Sirius. If all goes according to plan, I expect I'll see you again someday." Dumbledore flicked his wand and the heavy manacle around his wrist disappeared. A second later he was gone, the door closing with a soft snick behind him.

Sirius watched him go, not allowing himself to hope Dumbledore could fix anything. He'd need a miracle to get out of this particular predicament.

A few minutes later, the miracle appeared in the form of Harry Potter and his bushy-haired friend on the back of a hippogriff.

* * *

June, 1994-

Remus saw the soggy envelope left in front of his door, and his heart started to pound. He stared at it for several moments, not entirely sure how he should react, before picking it up, and letting himself into his apartment. He tossed the letter onto the table and proceeded to ignore it for the next hour and a half. He made himself supper, (fried eggs and toast, because he'd always loved eating breakfast for supper), took a shower, and straightened up his seedy-looking little apartment.

Why hadn't he torn open that letter the first instant he'd seen it, soggy, and written on in Sirius' handwriting? Well, a very large part of him had wanted too. That same part was dying to know where Sirius was, how he was doing, what he thought about... well, everything really, how he felt about everything. But there was another part of Remus that told him, before he found out what Sirius thought and felt, he should probably figure about what he thought and felt first.

He didn't know.

It was something he'd put off thinking about since that night in June when he'd burst into the Shrieking Shack to see Sirius—pale, filthy, hurt—lying on the dust covered floor. He'd hugged him then. He didn't know why.

There were so many pieces to the whole situation and each had to be thought about, decided upon... he didn't know where to start.

Start with the letter, he told himself. So he sat down at the table and reached for the letter. It was still damp. The owl that had delivered it must have encountered some pretty heavy rain. His heart was pounding again. It was ridiculous, really, the amount of havoc the sight of Sirius' handwriting could wreak on him.

With a self-depreciating snort, he ripped open the envelope, pulled out the letter, and started reading.

_Moony,_

_ I wanted to let you know that I'm successfully out of the country and heading south—(I can't tell you where, on the chance that this letter may be intercepted)._

Here, several of the lines had been crossed out. Whatever Sirius had been trying to say, he must have thought better of it in the end. Remus squinted at the parchment trying to discern the words underneath the scratches, but no luck. He shrugged and continued reading.

_I realize the events of that night probably cost you your job, and I'm sorry. I remember how difficult it always was for you to find employment. If you ever need anything, let me know and I'll help in any way I can._

_ I hope you'll write me occasionally. It gets lonely, sometimes. Of course I'll understand if you don't._

_ Hoping to hear from you soon,_

_ Padfoot_

Remus stared at the letter, not entirely sure what to think. The letter was undoubtedly from Sirius—it was written in his handwriting—but it didn't sound like Sirius. It was too stiff, too formal. In the past Sirius had written letters like Sirius had sat on a couch, that is: loose, relaxed, and flopping all over the place.

Remus squinted at the paper again. _Was_ it Sirius's handwriting? He hadn't seen it in so long, maybe he was wrong. He set the letter down on the table and went to his bed, crouching to pull a box out from underneath it. It wasn't a particularly nice box, just simple, light brown wood and a lid with hinges that squeaked when you opened it, but for almost as long as he could remember, he'd used it to store the things that were important to him.

After digging through it for a moment, passing over the various sentimental odds and ends, Remus finally found it; a letter Sirius had written him in the summer between their sixth and seventh years at Hogwarts. He took it to the table, pointedly not reading it and meaning to compare the handwriting with that of the new letter, but with one glance at the first line he was drawn in.

_Moony,_

_ Would you hurry up and get here already? Prongs and I are going completely mental trying to find something to do. Mrs. Potter has taped A List of Things James and Sirius are Not to Do to the kitchen cabinet. I normally wouldn't care, but the Potters are good people and I don't want to make them angry._

_ Which bring us to you, Moony. They've outlawed just about everything James and I find entertaining. As our primary source of LEGAL fun, you need to come visit ASAP or James and I might get bored enough to shag each other._

Remus remembered how his jaw had dropped the first time he'd read that and he failed to suppress a smile.

_Only joking! Had to make sure you were still paying attention. (The only one I'll shag is you. Another reason you need to get here, fast)._

_ Hope last night wasn't too rough on you. Before you know it, the Marauders will all be back at Hogwarts, running amok and generally ruling the place._

_ Talk soon,_

_ Padfoot_

_ P.S. Peter says he can't make it to James's this summer. Apparently he and Mummy are too busy collecting clippings from _Witch Weekly._ Silly little rat._

Remus, who had been grinning broadly despite himself, felt the smile slip from his face when he read the postscript. What was it Sirius had said to Peter a few weeks ago in the Shrieking Shack? _"I'll never understand why I didn't see you were the spy from the start…"_

Now Remus was beginning to wonder why he hadn't seen it himself. For all his fawning devotion to James and Sirius, Peter had always been the odd man out. He had always been alienated, either by personality, or brains, or talent, or simple geography.

Maybe he was simply talking himself into it, but the more he thought about it, the less surprised he was that Peter had betrayed him. He and Peter had never clicked like Peter had with the others. No matter how hard Remus had tried, Peter had been scared of him since the moment James had told him Remus was a werewolf.

That Peter had betrayed James, Remus found a little harder to believe.

Remus shook his head and pushed that thought away, refocusing on the letters in front of him. The handwriting matched without a doubt. After another moment's consideration, Remus chalked up the stiff, formal tone of the letter to the fact that Sirius had just spent the last twelve years is Azkaban. His communication skills were undoubtedly rusty. But then, Remus thought, neither of them had ever been very adept at communicating.

He sighed, pulled out a piece of parchment, ink, and a quill, and started writing.

_Padfoot,_

_ It's good to hear from you—I'm glad you're abroad. Go someplace sunny and warm. Dementors don't usually like bright sunlight._

_ Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself. I was hired at a Costa Coffee here in London. It's a Muggle job, but as long as I can make rent I suppose I don't really mind._

_ If you need anything, let me know._

_ Moony_

Remus looked it over, satisfied. Sirius didn't need to think Remus didn't want to speak to him, but Remus refused to talk about anything of import. If they were going to cross that bridge, Sirius was going to have to cross it first. Remus suspected he had tried—that's what all the scratched out writing was—but Sirius hadn't had the guts to actually say it, and Remus refused to make this particular issue any easier for him.

* * *

October, 1994

_Moony,_

_ Something's not right. I've been hearing whispers about You-Know-Who, and Little James wrote me to tell me his scar has been hurting. After that mess at the World Cup, something is definitely going on._

_ In Britain now—I'd like to see you sometime, but for now I'm keeping an eye on L.J. _

_ Keep your ears open and your head down. Who knows what the old Death Eaters will be up to. Let me know if you catch wind of anything._

_ Padfoot_

Remus stared at the letter, particularly the phrase "Little James", and then it dawned on him. "Little James" was Harry. With a snort of laughter, Remus shook his head. It was certainly a fitting codename for the boy.

Remus scribbled a hasty reply before the tawny owl that had delivered Sirius's letter could fly away.

_Padfoot,_

_ Have heard whispers well—I'll keep my eyes open._

_Try to stay out of trouble. You're no use to L.J. dead._

_ Moony_

* * *

December, 1994

_Moony,_

_ Any chance you could send me something to eat? The rats have started getting clever. _

_I hope last night's moon wasn't too rough on you. I'd be there if I could. If you wanted me there, that is. Remember that moon Prongs got into it with a centaur?_

_Padfoot_

_Padfoot,_

_I've attached a parcel with some food. You should have asked me sooner. I'd never let you live off of rats._

_The moon was fine. I'm just tired. Moony hasn't spent the full with anyone in a long time. It might not be a good idea to keep him company._

_Tell me the next time you need something._

_Moony_

* * *

March, 1995

_Padfoot,_

_ I saw Greyback last night. Don't worry, he didn't see me. Apparently he's trying to recruit wolves for something. I don't know what. Sounds like the kind of thing you might want to know._

_ I've been reading about L.J. in the Daily Prophet. I'm surprised you haven't run out to save him yet._

_ I've attached another parcel of food—hope you enjoy it._

_ Moony_

Sirius didn't write him back. For the first few weeks, Remus wasn't concerned. Often several weeks went by between correspondences. He was a bit preoccupied, anyway. He'd lost his job at the Costa for showing up to work late a few too many times. His transformations had been ridiculously rough the past few months, and had caused him to sleep through his alarm more than once.

Remus eventually realized what was causing Moony more stress than was necessary. It was the city. Even on the new moon, when the wolf was usually tucked away, fast asleep inside his chest, he could feel it pacing. It was restless, terrified, and trapped by all the concrete and steel and glass, yearning for the open spaces and the deep, dark forest. So when he lost his job, he looked for a place in the country and found a ramshackle little cottage barely within his price range.

By May he was all settled in and worry for Sirius had started to grow in his chest. If Sirius had been captured by Dementors it would have been front-page news, so he wasn't worried about that. But if Sirius had fallen ill, if he'd starved or frozen to death, if Death Eaters had found him… then the odds were Remus would never know what had happened.

By the first week of June, Remus was furious at both Sirius and himself. What right did Sirius have to do this to him? To come waltzing back into his life, talk to him a handful of times, and then disappear again?

And how stupid was he, to let Sirius do this to him? How stupid was he to even speak to Sirius again? Sirius had hurt him horribly, in ways that no human being should ever be hurt. Remus had every right to ignore him, to let him starve, but no.

He'd told himself he was in control, that he dictated their communication and their relationship (whatever that was). He'd been lying to himself.

These were the thoughts that raced through his mind every time he let himself slow down enough to think them. They played on a loop, like a toy train on a circular track: concern for Sirius's safety, anger at Sirius for him being a general dick in all things, anger at himself for being stupid and lonely enough to think that this time with Sirius might be different, and then back to worrying whether he was dead or not.

He was thinking these thoughts late one night in June as he was doing the dishes (by hand, rather than by magic, simply because it gave him something to do), when there was a knock on his door. Remus froze, and thought very hard about who knew his new address and who didn't. Dumbledore was the only wizard he had told, simply because there wasn't anyone else to tell. He'd be genuinely surprised if it was a Muggle. He'd deliberately made sure he had no close neighbors and was a decent distance from any major road.

Flicking the soapy water off his hands, he retrieved his wand from where he'd tossed it on the kitchen table. He went to the door and placed his hand on the knob, before taking a deep, steeling breath and opening it.

Sirius was standing on the stoop, filthy and unhealthily thin, but very much alive. Despite all Remus's inner ranting and fury, his heart leapt at the sight of him. Luckily, he was able to stop the grin from spreading across his face. "Sirius," he said. "What are you—"

"Dumbledore sent me," Sirius interrupted, his voice hoarse and grim. At his tone, Remus's momentary happiness dissipated like a popped soap bubble. "He's back, Remus," Sirius said. "Voldemort is back."

* * *

Mwahaha! Cliffhanger! (sort of). Hope you enjoyed it! I'll hopefully post again soon. Thanks for reading! and I'd love to hear what you think


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